The Lyricist
by HelloElla
Summary: A good song might make you dance, tap your foot and get stuck in your head for days to come. But a great song will change your life. It stops being just a simple catchy tune that will quickly be forgotten and becomes the soundtrack to memories and stories of your past or future. Bella Swan inspired that one song. It's just a shame that she'll never hear it.
1. The Beginning Verse

**Thank you for reading! It's not beta'd so please forgive all mistakes like I forgive myself for eating sweets way too much.**

**See ya at the bottom. **

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Chapter 1- The Beginning Verse

_Eeeeeeeeeeek_

"Cullen, bro, what the hell?" Emmett shouts across the empty bar. It's the second time today. "You better not sound like that tonight or Rose isn't gonna let me give you another gig. I think my ears are bleeding."

I sigh and I feel like kicking my shitty sound system. I wave my hand promising him that everything will be alright.

But he doesn't fall for it and I don't either.

But I can't fail tonight. It'll be the biggest and most important night of my life since I moved to Seattle.

This is it. This is the night I'll prove my father wrong. One good gig. One good song and I'll show him that this real not just some childish hobby.

It won't be like Led Zeppelin at Madison Square Garden in 1973 and it certainly won't be like Jimmy Hendrix at Woodstock. I won't have a bunch of groupies screaming my name and I won't have police escort me out the building for my own safety. My sweaty concert face won't be on the cover of my live album and on t-shirts and nobody is going to record my performance on their cellphone so they can watch it again later.

It doesn't matter.

When I take stage tonight at Emmett and Rosalie's bar, I will single handedly rock the vodka and beer breath out of every person present and be the first and only broke college student from Las Vegas, Nevada to have ruled with my cheap acoustic guitar. They'll feel every chord and forming blister from my fingers in their skin. Tonight, they'll bob their heads to the beat and raise their hands up high.

Dreams.

I know.

Everyone has them.

But who is to say my dream can't become reality?

"Alright, Edward, get out," Rosalie tells me just as I'm about to start rehearsing again. "We have to close for now. Come back at six."

"But I'm not done," I tell her, even though I know she'll win and I'll leave.

"Dude, you'll rock it. You better rock it or you're gonna cost me money. Now get the hell out of here."

Rosalie Hale, sweet as can be.

I place my guitar in its case and head out. I jump in a bus, shove my iPod's headphones into my ears and watch as the rain drops hit my window. I protectively place a hand over my guitar as the ride continues, making sure it doesn't fall or gets taken. I tap the floor with my foot as the bass line of the song gets intense and slap my free hand on my knee to accompany the drums. I silently sing along, imagining every word and every bit of the story as my eyes wander around the city and as the bus gets closer home.

I take a chance and look around the bus. A little girl seems to be crying her lungs out while being ignored by her mother. A man and a woman a couple of seats away seem to be arguing. The homeless looking girl sitting on the seat next to them just stares out her window holding onto her raggedy orange backpack for dear life and talking to herself.

But I can't hear her.

But I can't hear any of them.

As I turn up the volume even more, I turn away from it all and return to my day dreams and rainy window.

"_You really think this is going to work? It's ridiculous!"_

"_It might seem like that, Dad, but I really love it."_

"_You're crazy son. I will not stand around and watch you fail."_

"_What if I don't fail?"_

"_Then I'll be the first one to congratulate you and I might even pat you on the back."_

I'm glad Jacob managed to give me the day off from The Music Box. It's nice to have a break from selling Justin Bieber and One Direction albums to teenage girls while holding back music lectures. I almost sold a girl a The Smiths album instead…but she caught on and walked out. She doesn't know what she's missing out.

The abilities to sing your life in words and strum away any pain are gifts from the music gods. A set of lyrics can change the world or even save a life if heard.

I can't imagine not having that.

I can't imagine not having music.

I would have nowhere to be. I would have nothing. I would lose my mind.

I spend the rest of the afternoon strumming my guitar and writing in my song journal. I've been trying to write my own songs. So far, I've only managed to successfully cover songs by other artists when I perform in front of friends and written some shitty songs. I know I can write my own and I think I'm pretty good at it, but Jake says I have to write that _one_ song.

I have to create that one song that will give someone chills and make me known for time to come.

But my creative side of the brain is dead. It has been dead for months.

I don't know if it's the stress of working and going to college or if I just need a muse or a reason. I need something to write about. I'm tired of writing pissed off at dad songs and break-up lyrics about Lauren.

I don't even know why I ever liked her in the first place. She was strange to say the least, but I have to draw inspiration from somewhere…right?

Besides, I need more mature songs. I'm twenty-two dammit.

I shove cereal down my throat, drink some juice, play games on my phone and stare at the blank pages of my journal. Jake gave it to me as a birthday gift.

Two months ago.

I scribble a few words down and then end up erasing it all.

"Fuuuuck!" I shout into the emptiness of my small apartment. As my voice echoes, I shove my hands in my hair and close my eyes, hoping the words will come to me.

_Hello, you are watching News Now with Kelly…_

Holy shit.

There it is again.

My neighbor always has her or his TV's volume all the way up. I don't know who this person is, but I hope their TV fucking breaks.

It happens every afternoon.

I sigh and hope he or she realizes how incredibly loud and obnoxious their TV is, but as the minutes pass my ears now listen to this Kelly WhatsHerFace talk about how the president is now worried about gun control and my eyes can't seem to move away from the blank pages that taunt me.

I grab my pen, stab it down and let the ink sink into the pages. I stare on at the blue liquid as it spreads into the crack of the journal.

Suddenly I slam my hands on my desk and head over to my neighbor's door. I take a deep breath and think about what I'm about to say.

I've never been much of a talker much less being into confrontations.

I nod to myself after deciding what I'll say. I'll make it clear that the sound is annoying and that she or he should be mindful of others.

Yes, that's what I'll say. I'll even throw in a crooked smile to show that there are no hard feelings.

Mom always said it worked miracles.

I knock.

I knock again.

I pound my fist against the door…

Nothing.

"Hello? Is anybody there?"

No answer.

I groan and head back to my apartment.

In the morning I'll talk to the landlord.

I don't care that I'll look like a whiny bitch. I want my silence back goddammit.

I forget about writing and instead play some records on as I mentally prep for my gig. I send a quick text to my dad.

"_Hey, old man. Are you on your way?"_

He doesn't answer right away. I assume he might be driving or something so I'll set my phone down and hope to hear it soon.

He and I haven't always seen eye to eye. Mom died when I was thirteen and he started working more after her death. I guess so he wouldn't have to think about her so much.

But then there was me. Some lonely awkward kid with a broken heart. While he was busy saving the world as Dr. Cullen, there I was crying and feeling miserable all alone.

Then I met Jake and Jasper. I was walking down my neighborhood when I spotted them having a garage sale at Jake's house. They sold me an old record player and some Doors vinyl.

I was never the same.

I got lost or maybe found in the lyrics, beats and rhythms of rock and roll. I would spend my allowance on albums and posters and when I turned sixteen I got a job just to buy more music.

Dad wasn't too happy when I told him I was going to study music in college and maybe even play in a band.

Actually, he hated the idea so much that he stopped talking to me for a while.

We've mended things…I think…over my birthday dinner. He even promised to come to my next gig so that I could prove to him why I was "wasting my money" on a major that wouldn't get me anywhere he wanted it to get me.

I stare at the poster of The Replacements as Kelly continues talking about the economy and the horrible shit that happens in our world.

Suddenly, her screechy voice stops.

My neighbor has turned off the TV. I hear footsteps heading out the door. I jump up and look through the peephole.

Who is this douchebag?

I wait a few minutes until I finally see the shadow and then the…girl?

I see waves of brown hair as she walks through the hall and into the elevator. I run over to my window, hoping to catch her face outside.

Impatiently I wait as she makes it down.

There is someone waiting for her inside a car.

I don't get to see her face, but now I know for sure that my inconsiderate neighbor is a chick. She's gonna get an ear full when I see her again.

She probably listens to One Direction.

Or Beyonce…or Maroon 5.

Yeah, she looks like a Nickleback fan.

How awful.

~TL~

After chugging down a beer, I strum my guitar backstage. Rose said she didn't have time to give me more than two songs so I have to nail it from the beginning.

The nerves are starting again. Sweat runs down my neck to the middle of my back and it's getting a little hard to breathe.

I check my phone.

No answer.

He must have his phone dead. He always forgets to charge it.

Old man.

I run my hands through my hair, over the curve of my guitar and along its neck as I wait my turn. Rose and Emmett's bar has been so successful. Mainly because they have different people performing music every night and some have even become crowd favorites. They'll come out and spend a fortune on booze while their favorites play a few songs.

When Emmett told me tonight is the night most people come out for drinks and a good song or two, I begged to get one or two songs in. They both hesitated. They usually let the best bands play on busy nights to keep the crowd coming. But being Em's cousin, Rose felt bad for me and let me have two songs.

I'm gonna show her. She isn't going to regret this.

"Cullen, you're up now!" Emmett tells me as he arrives backstage with a beer in his hand and a grin on his face. He gives me a nervous smile and a rough pat on the back. "You'll do fine, bro. You've been doing music since before your balls dropped. You got this. And if you fuck up, just know you're in a bar and you can get shitfaced. My treat."

I chuckle. "Thanks, dude."

He gives me one final rough pat and starts walking away.

"Hey, Em, have you seen my dad?"

"Uncle Car? Nah, man. I haven't seen him. Is he coming?"

I just nod.

Emmett chuckles and shakes his head.

Even he knows it.

Dad was never going to make it.

~TL~

"Hello," I say so low that I wonder if anybody heard. The heat of the stage lights is making me sweat even more and suddenly my throat is dry. "My name is Edward Cullen and I'm gonna play two songs for you tonight. I hope you enjoy." The crowded room says nothing to me and only stares on while drinking and side talking.

I take one good look around the bar. No, my father isn't here, but the place is crowded. Maybe I can impress someone out of the 75 people.

He probably had an emergency or sick patient to go to.

I take a deep breath and jump when it's caught in the microphone. Some people laugh and I don't dare look up.

I direct my eyes to my fingers on the guitar neck and begin to strum my first song.

This is it.

This is the moment.

Bob Dylan, John Lennon, Johnny Cash, The Smiths, Van Morrison, they all had this moment. They all had the first moment they opened their mouths to sing and played their guitar for the first time to a crowded room.

But suddenly I can't remember if any of them had a moment where they forgot the words to their songs…because I sure have.

Shit.

I know I had picked bad songs.

Ohhh, shit.

What do I do?

I begin to hum like an idiot and finally look up.

People are making questioning faces and others are looking towards the door.

Dammit.

Come on, Cullen, think! _So I go down in flames through hell's _uhhh.

My eyes land on Rosalie and Emmett.

Emmett is looking away while nervously rubbing his neck. He got that from my grandpa and Dad

Rosalie is glaring at me. She's never going to give me another chance.

I move my eyes away and place them to the front of the crowd.

There.

There in front of the drunken idiot laughing his ass off at me and next to the tattooed woman whose tits are hanging out is a girl.

She smiles at me. Her sweet smile is honest. It reaches her brown eyes and compliments the warm blush on her cheeks. She is bouncing lightly on her feet and sways from to side to side. She places a hand over her chest and closes her eyes. Her smile turns into a grin and suddenly going through this humiliation isn't so bad.

At least she isn't laughing at me.

I decide to end my debacle and skip the second song. I don't want to cause Rose and Emmett any more customers.

"Thanks," I mumble into the microphone.

Before I leave the stage I catch the sweet girl clapping encouragingly for me.

She's the only one.

~TL~

"Rose is never going to let me play again," I say into my beer.

"Damn straight, what the hell happen, cousin?" Emmett asks and places his huge hand on my shoulder. It's awkward and not comforting and I can feel how clammy his hand is, but I thank him for trying. "You're usually a boss when you play at our home parties. You know Rose loves that song you sing about the end of the world."

"It's about the end of a relationship. The world is just a metaphor."

"Whatever, dude. Look, I'll try my best to convince Rose to let you play again someday, but I can't make promises. You just gotta get your shit together. So it was one bad gig and so you didn't change the world and you're not going to be on the cover of _Rolling Stone _anytime soon, but you know music. You just got put your nerves or whatever ghost is haunting you away."

"Thanks, Em."

"No problem! What are cousins for? Also, sorry about Uncle Car not coming. You know he's never been into the bar scene.

"He's never been into the 'me' scene."

He chuckles and roughly pats my back. I hold back a groan so he won't think I'm a pussy, but that shit hurt.

_"Don't_ sound like that, man."

"Like what?"

"Like a little shit with daddy problems. You know Uncle Car has always been a strict and uptight man. He's conservative and boring. He's never gonna like that you wanna play music so start getting over it."

"Thanks for the emotional help, Em. It's really strange that you're not a shrink or something."

He chuckles again. "You fuckface. Speaking of fuckfaces, you plan on getting one tonight? If so, drinks are on me!"

"Another reason for Rose to hate me."

He laughs loudly and gives me another rough pat before leaving me alone at the bar. Though I love my cousin, I'm glad he's left me to drown in my self-pity.

_Sorry for not showing up, Son. I had to attend something else. Maybe next time._

"Sure thing, Dad," I mumble to my phone's screen.

"Nice song, dude. Maybe next time bring the lyrics," some asshole says.

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." I order another beer and take out my small notebook. I read over my words trying to see where I went wrong. It's not one of my favorites, but it's a decent song. I think of my idols and wonder about what they would think of my lyrics.

They would probably laugh.

Van Morrison captivated the world with a simple song about a pretty girl with brown eyes. Jim Morrison fucked with people's minds with lyrics that made no damn sense the first time around. Kurk Cobain made millions of teens and sad people relate to him and rock out.

And what do I do? I forget my words. I forget the most important part of the song. I forgot the story. I forgot the heartbeat and the life of my damn song.

Imagine Johnny Cash without the lyrics to _I Walk the Line_ or to _Folsom Prison_. What would those songs be without them? Just great bass lines and guitar strumming.

Am I trying to hard? Are they missing heart? Its usually there but lately it's been MIA. I don't know if it's the fact that I'm going broke, or that I'm starting to hate ramen noodles and frozen pizzas or that I'm failing math in college or if it's…

My father.

I close my notebook with a snap and shove it in my pocket.

I'm just gonna drink myself to a better mind state, before I go bald or get an ulcer.

I chug my third beer and look around the bar. The band that is playing right now does remember the lyrics, but I hate their music. They're drum is too loud and you can't hear the singer very well. The guitar isn't tuned and the bass line is weak. Also, the chorus isn't good enough. It needs more heart, but the crowd doesn't seem to care. They nod and clap.

I mean I can't judge, I'm the one with the major chocking on stage.

My eyes keep wandering around and then suddenly, they find her.

They find that cute girl that smiled at me while I was making a fool of myself.

She's standing at the opposite end of the bar, wanting to get the bartender's attention but she's failing. She's so tiny and the idiots in front of her won't move even though they have their drinks already.

I grab my beer and head over to her, checking myself mentally.

No, I'm not drunk and I don't think I'm slurring yet. I won't act like an idiot. Maybe I can have one victory tonight.

"Hi, I'm Edward. Can I get you a drink?"

She ignores me and continues to look for the bartender. She has big brown eyes with a little green in them and fuck, I love them. This is what Van Morrison was talking about. It has to be. Her brown curls bounce with her as she tries to see over the big guys in front of her. She's tiny. She looks like a wind could take her.

"Look, I know you're probably tired of asshole hitting on you," I say and she finally turns and looks at me. Her eyes widen and she jumps back a little as if I've startled her. But after she wanders over my face once, she gives me a sweet smile with her plump pink lips. Her eyes then drop to my mouth. "I just wanted to thank you for being the only person here who didn't boo me. As I saw you smiling at me when I was up on the stage it kind of made it not as shitty…is that cheesy? I swear it's not a pick up line and I'm not a creep."

It takes her a few seconds to react, but it's still worth it. She gives me a huge smile and continues to stare at my mouth.

I wipe away with the back of my hand thinking maybe I have something on my lips and that it's ruining this for me.

"Do I have something on my mouth?" I ask.

She giggles.

"What is it?" I ask covering my mouth, but she doesn't react this time. She just bites down on her bottom lip and continues to look at me.

"Hey, back off," a screechy voice shouts. Suddenly a much tinier girl stands next to my brown eyed girl. She protectively wraps an arm around her, but I can tell Brown Eyes is a little annoyed by her as she gently pulls away.

"May I help you?"

"No, may I help you?"

"I don't know what you want, but Bella isn't interested."

I chuckle. "How do you know? You just got here."

She huffs and turns towards pretty Bella who is now staring at her friend's mouth. She must have some aversion to eyes or something.

"Bella, what are you doing? I have been looking all over for you," says the little one while making hand signals.

Bella then turns and looks at me worriedly. A deep blush takes over her cheeks and her eyes look disappointed.

She sighs and begins to hand signal back to the short dark haired girl. Her hand signals are a little stronger, but unlike her friend, Bella doesn't say a word.

"Well I think he knows it already, Bella. That's not something you can hide for very much time. Besides, you don't even know him," Alice says and signals at the same time.

Its then that I realize it.

I now know why she didn't boo and why she clapped for me even though I was horrible.

She couldn't hear me.

She can't hear me at all.

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**Ah! What did ya think? **

**Unlike NLG, this story is not angsty. It might have a few frowny face scenes, moments and it might have some drama, but you're safe reading it in public.**

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	2. The Beginning Verse Again

**AH! Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews. I am glad you're enjoying this. I'm sort of infatuated with Deaf Bella and MusicNerdWard, I hope you are too.**

**No beta so forgive me!**

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Chapter 2- The Beginning Verse…Again

"I'm sorry, but is she…"

"Yes," the small girl shouts. "Bella can't hear so I suggest you walk away now."

"Why would I do that?"

"What business do you want with her?"

"What the hell? Are you her mother?"

"I'm Alice, the best friend," the small girl says, places a hand on her waist and steps forward. Brave little creature. "I'm not her mother, but someone that has been in this position way too many times. Good looking assholes like you hit on her all the time, but once they realize she's deaf, they bounce off faster than their stupid pickup lines."

Bella rolls her eyes and grabs Alice's arm to get her attention. She signals something and Alice huffs. "Yes, I'm giving _the_ speech. It's for your own good."

Bella turns to me again, places her closed fist over her heart and does a circular motion. "Sthorry," she says.

I smile.

"You talk?" I ask, truly intrigued.

"She's not mute, you moron," her sweet friend answers.

"Jesus, you can't possibly be any nicer," I say sarcastically.

Bella giggles.

"Do you also read lips? Oh…oh! That's why you were staring at my mouth. Hi, my naaaame is Edwaaaard," I say causing her to giggle more.

"Don't exaggerate your words, you fool. She can't read your lips if you do that and she can't read all words…not that it matters anyway. We're leaving." Alice turns and looks at Bella. "We're leaving," she repeats, hand signaling at the same time.

Bella signals back with furrowed eyebrows.

"It doesn't matter. You've already had two drinks. Charlie would kill you."

Bella just shrugs and turns towards the bar, but Alice won't give up. She takes her hand and starts pulling her towards the bar's exit.

Bella looks back and gives me a huge grin as her friend pulls her through the crowded bar. "Bye!" She shouts while throwing the peace sign at me.

A few minutes later I find myself still standing where they left me with a smile on my face.

~TL~

I get home just before midnight. I change into clean clothes and grab my journal, ready to write music. I'm determined. I'm going to write the best song ever, even if it takes me all night…or my whole life. I'm sort of buzzed so maybe that will help.

Right as I start brain storming, the goddam TV next door startles me again when my neighbor turns it on.

"Jesus!" I shout and jump into my shoes. I throw my journal on my bed and head over to stop this nonsense once and for all. This is ridiculous. I'm surprised our other neighbors have not complained. She's so inconsiderate and a very annoying individual.

I knock.

And I knock.

I'm not giving up. I know she is there.

I can hear the TV and footsteps.

I start pounding the door. "Hello? I know you're home! Please open the door or shut your damn TV off!"

Suddenly the door flies open.

There, standing in front of me wearing pajama pants and an oversized blue sweater with the words "Go Spartans" printed in yellow is Bella.

The deaf girl from the bar.

She's holding a baseball bat and a mean glare on her face until she realizes it's me. Suddenly her glare disappears and is replaced with a bright grin.

She's so cute.

She waves at me. No words or sound. Just a wave.

That's enough to make me chuckle and feel like a silly schoolboy with a crush.

"Um, I actually live next door and your TV is sorta loud," I say slowly, hoping she understands.

She scrunches up her face in confusion and doesn't move.

"Your TV," I say.

She stares at my lips for a few seconds, but she still seems confused.

"TV?" She asks.

"Yes." I made sure to nod.

She steps to the side and waves for me to come in. She points to where the machine from hell is. I find it, grab the remote and I start turning the volume down.

Holy shit, it was on max.

"You see," I say pointing at the volume bar on the screen. I cover my ears and make a pained face. "Loud. It's too loud."

Her eyes widen as the understanding kicks in and then she starts giggling. "Sthorry," she says after her giggling fit is over.

I chuckle and turn to place the remote back on the coffee table. "It's okay, I understand. My mom always loved to listen to music out loud and it drove my dad nuts," I say and turn towards her. She looks confused again.

Oh. I wasn't facing her while I was speaking. I repeat myself.

Twice.

She finally understands me and gives me a thumbs up to let me know she got it.

She shyly stands with her hands playing with the hem of her sweater and her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

I give her a smile because I don't know what else to do. Besides, she's too adorable just to ignore. I decide to initiate something and finally look around her place.

There is hardly space to walk on. The floor is covered with books and papers. There is a stack of books serving as a lamp holder and another stack is holding a plate with a piece of chocolate cake. It looks like she uses her books as furniture.

Her living room walls are covered in drawings. There are also math books at my feet.

"You like to draw and math?" I ask her.

She nods. She looks around the floor, picks up a random sketchbook from the floor and begins to write.

In concentration she bites down on her lip and squints her pretty eyes.

"Math doesn't need speaking," she wrote. "Drawing is a way of speaking. Thankfully I'm good with both or I would be shit out of luck."

I chuckle and look up at her. She gives me a shy smile and takes the sketchbook back. She scribbles quickly and hands it back over.

"Would you like something to drink? I have alcohol. But I also have water if you're into that kind of stuff. I won't judge you. I promise."

With a smile I answer her. "Beer?"

She nods and heads over to her small kitchen. While she's getting my drink, I take a closer look at her stuff.

Her TV is covered in homemade pictures and drawings. She has a photo of an older man with dark hair and dark eyes just like hers hanging from the wall. She has her arms wrapped around him and is pressing her lips on his cheek. I'm guessing it's her father.

They look happy.

She has more doodles and drawings done with blue pen taped to the wall. I don't have a chance to inspect them any further, because she comes back.

She hands me the beer and I notice she has a glass of water in hand.

"Hey, I'm judging you," I tell her.

She giggles and sits down on her raggedy brown couch. She slides books and papers off with one swoop of her arm. They fall onto the floor, but she doesn't seem to care. She pats the now empty space next to her.

I smile and take a seat.

Nervously I take a swig of my beer and wait for her to start conversation. But then I want to slap myself. I turn to face her and find her staring at me with a smirk on her face.

"Hi," I say stupidly. "I really like your stuff," I say, pointing at her walls. Somehow I feel like I'm speaking too slowly but she understands me.

She places her fingers right under her lips and then moves them away from her face. "Thank you," she says a little too loud, but I can't help but smile. I find it quite adorable that she doesn't know what volume to use.

I copy her hand signal. "So this means 'thank you'?"

She nods.

I remember the gesture she did at the bar when she apologized. "This means 'sorry'?"

She shakes her head and raises my fist to hover my heart.

"Oh, okay. How about 'you'? How do you say 'you?'"

She giggles and just points at me.

"Oh…well that's simple enough," I say into my beer. Before I can drink from it, she pulls my chin and makes me face her. We just met yet she doesn't hold when touching me. I kinda like it.

She points at her eyes and then at my mouth. She repeats the signals and makes a confused face.

"Oh! I said that it's simple…you know that the pointing at me means 'you.' Umm." I turn my whole body towards her. "Sorry," I say and signaling at the same time.

She giggles and claps.

"Goodth jab," she assures me.

"How did you learn to do that?" I ask her. "How did you learn to read lips and say words? Have you always been deaf?"

She holds her hands in front of her.

"Sorry," I say and signal. "Too much? Too fast?"

She raises her eyebrows and nods.

She pulls her doodle sketchbook and starts writing. As she does this I can't help but stare at her. Not that her messy apartment isn't something to admire, but I'd much rather stare at her pretty face.

Her face is heart shaped with a feminine jaw. There are very small and light freckles covering her cheeks and her small nose. Not too many and not too little, but just right. Her bottom lip is fuller than her top lip and her long eyelashes move perfectly each time she blinks. She isn't wearing any make-up so I know her beauty is her own.

She looks up, catching me checking her out. She blushes and starts chewing on her bottom lip again, before handing me her sketch book.

"I'm sorry. I didn't catch all your questions. It's tiresome at times to read lips for a long time. If you don't mind, could we resort to writing for the rest of the night?"

"Of course. But I blame that water. You should really slow down. Friends don't let friends drunk lip read…is that joke okay? I didn't mean to offend you…maybe I should write with a pencil…I tend to word vomit…even in writing. I should have an eraser at all times."

She giggles, hands me a pencil and playfully slaps my arm.

"You're silly. I thought the joke was funny. No need to apologize. I think your word vomit is…endearing. You see that. I thought about it before writing the middle school adjective 'cute.' Take notes, you newb."

It's my turn to laugh.

"Thanks. I'm glad I am middle school cute."

"Your name is Edward, right?"

"Yes and you're Bella."

She nods. "I'm your number one fan, Ed."

I roll my eyes. "I was terrible."

"I wouldn't have noticed. You'll do better next time."

"Why are you so sure?"

"I'm not, but you look legit up on that stage. Leather jacket and slick hair. That stubble makes you look tortured by the evils of love. Isn't that what everyone sings about? Oh, and don't forget the charming good looks. You'll make it with just looks. No need for actual talent, you stud."

I laugh.

"What did you do wrong anyway? Do you suck at singing?"

I chuckle. "I forgot the words to my songs."

"Oh, that's bad."

"Very. It's humiliating."

"Why did you forget? Did someone else write the songs?"

"No, I wrote them. I just don't like them."

"Why?"

"They aren't special. You know how every band or singer has that ONE song?"

She giggles. "Actually, I don't."

"I'm so sorry. I kind of forgot we were writing, not talking."

She giggles again. "No worries. So every musical genius has that ONE song. Go on."

"Well I don't have it. I've been writing and writing and I just can't seem to come up with that one song. I have a few decent ones, but nothing great. I just don't feel them."

"I'm going to help you write it."

I chuckle and nod. "Where do we start?"

She takes off her sweater and I curse at my eyes. They automatically go on a journey; discovering the mysteries of her porcelain skin. She's wearing a blank tank top and I can see the small freckles lightly dusted over her shoulders. My eyes then travel up her feminine neck and stop at her eyes. She's busy away, writing on her sketchbook.

She finally hands it to me and raises her eyebrow. She taps the part she has just written with her pencil to make sure I read it.

"Please check the song topics that your heart desires to sing about," it reads. "Please mark all that apply as bravery is encouraged." After that, there are multiple options with small check boxes next to each.

I laugh at her silliness, but she pushes the sketchbook further into my hands and claps. Her furrowed eyebrows and hand gestures let me know that she is serious.

I sigh and hand it back to her with my choices marked with an 'X' and my own two cents.

_Love_ **X**

_Lust_** X ** "I always wanna sing about that."

_Mommy/Daddy issues_

_Money_ "I'm not a rapper."

_Breakups_

_A bad girlfriend_

_A good girlfriend?_ "Why was this option written in very small text?"

_Dreams_ **X**

_Some deep shit nobody will understand unless under the influence of some drug_ **X** "HAHA! By far my favorite option."

I hand her my answers and she giggles, scribbles something and hands it back.

"I read about the 1960s and psychedelic music. I don't know what you hippies are into, but I'll try and help you."

I roll my eyes at her and write back.

"Do you read a lot?"

"Are the books scattered all around my pigpen not enough?"

"Smartass. I think it's cool that you're into art, reading and math."

"I can master all of those without needing to hear. Besides, I love reading. I love words. They help me picture what I obviously can't hear. Each word the author uses to describe a sound, a phrase or even the yelling with anger or the verbal declaration of love, makes it easier to imagine a world with sound. I can easily imagine a world I don't know about and it makes it easier for me to live in it. "

"That's beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as this hit song we're about to write…which by the way I will never hear. You can laugh it's a joke…anyway, let's brain storm. Lie down."

She lies down and I do the same with my legs facing the opposite direction. I place my head next to hers and scribble on the sketchbook.

"Now what?"

"Now we think."

"Maybe a beer will help me think better."

"Maybe the actual thinking will help you think."

I laugh, but she brings over several beers anyway and then returns to the same spot on the couch.

We write back and forth.

Song ideas.

Bad song ideas.

Jokes.

Okay song ideas.

More jokes about the jokes and bad songs.

She doodles.

I add to the doodles. I'm not much of an artist, but she fixes the final doodle so it's okay.

More beer.

More doodles.

Besides the cartoons, Bella really can draw.

Our fingers are filthy with lead. We leave finger prints all over the pages of the sketchbook, but Bella manages to draw eyes and arms on them to make them look like people.

She takes my last beer and downs the rest of it and bounces to her feet.

We now have six pages worth of conversation in her sketchbook and 6 empty beer bottles. She flips over to a blank page and starts writing. When she is done, she hands it back to me and heads over to the TV.

"Let's not think about it. Maybe it'll come to us that way."

I turn at the noise of the TV that is on again. It's still somehow loud and it's getting louder. Bella turns it on to some music video channel.

An obnoxious hip hop song starts booming.

"No, no!" I shout, waving at her. I walk over to her and cover my ears. "This music is awful!" I shout, then I remember I should not exaggerate my words and repeat myself in a normal tone, feeling weird because I can't hear myself talk and for a moment I imagine this is how she feels everyday of her life.

It's unfair. Before I can feel any more pity for her, I repeat myself.

"This music sucks."

She shrugs with a grin and without any care of my musical taste. She grabs my hand and places it over my chest and places her hand over her chest.

"I don't get it," I say.

She rolls her eyes and just when the vibration of the hip hop beats start roaring in my chest, Bella starts to dance.

She lets go of me, closes her eyes, keeps her hand over her chest and begins to move her head and arms like a girl from a bad rap video.

I laugh. I laugh so hard that I can feel my face heating up. I don't know if it's the booze or the fact that she's so damn cute.

Her movements don't match the beats, but she doesn't seem to care. She opens her eyes and huffs when she sees that I'm not dancing. She takes my hands and pulls me towards her. She moves my arms until I'm forced to follow her bad dance moves.

She grins when I finally give in. I give into her craziness and I don't mind one bit.

Not even a little.

I don't know how many songs pass, but I suddenly find myself lying on her couch drenched in sweat and with sore cheeks and an aching stomach from laughing so much.

She takes deep breaths to calm herself down before reaching over and grabbing her sketchbook. This time she takes a little longer with it so I study the pictures on her wall. There are more of that man with the dark hair and I spot one of Alice, her friend. She is grinning with an arm wrapped around Bella. They both look like they are in their teens. They must be friends since forever.

Bella finally hands me the sketchbook and another laugh escapes me.

She's drawn a little cartoon version of me dressed in hip hop clothes. I have a long chain around my neck and a backward cap.

"Were you inspired?" She scribbled at the bottom of the drawing.

I smile at her and answer back.

"I'm afraid not."

"I guess we'll have to keep trying."

~TL~

My head is killing me.

My back aches and my neck is worse.

I open my eyes and jump up when I find Bella standing in front of me.

"Sthorry!" She says.

I quickly forgive her though. She's freshly showered and dressed up.

"Good morning," I say. I must look like shit. The hangover is awful and I feel like death, especially when I look at her and there she is looking gorgeous. Her hair is neatly curled again, framing pretty face.

"Moooning. Sthcool…" she manages to say and points at herself. "Sthcool for…" she opens and closes her hand.

"Oh, speech school? Speech therapy?"

She nods proudly.

"That's great! Well, let me get out of your way," I say and rub my face. I grab my shoes and start heading out the door.

I stop when I feel her small hand in mine. I turn and face her, but she runs back into the living room for our sketchbook.

Ha, _our _sketchbook.

"Last night was fun. Thank you."

"Yeah it was. We'll be seeing each other a lot. Since we're neighbors and all. I mean you don't have to see me if you don't want. Though I would like…"

She snatches the sketchbook from my hands when I start erasing, reads and rolls her eyes.

"Quit your word vomit and I'll see you later. Have a great day."

I close my apartment door behind me, jump in the shower, drink water like there is no tomorrow and decide to nurse my hangover before I have to go to work.

I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. I bring my hands up to my face and realize that they are still stained with pencil.

I laugh, even though it makes my headache worse.

Paul McCartney is staring at me from my Beatles poster on the wall.

"Hey, Paul. You wrote some of the best and silliest love songs ever! But I bet you never had as much fun as I did last night writing zero songs!" I laugh like a maniac by myself.

Yeah, nobody's ever had that much fun.

"Be jealous, Paul. Be jealous."

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**Let me know what ya think! Also, is it too early to give Edward and Bella nicknames? Haha**

**For those of you asking about Roughneck, I am currently working on that new chapter! I won't let it go. **

**Adios.**


	3. A Song about a Coffee Shop

**Ah! Thank you for the reviews, favs and follows! You guys are awesome. **

**No beta. So beware of grammar errors and overall comma vomit.**

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Chapter 3- A Song about a Coffee Shop

"Dude, you look like shit," Jake says.

"Thanks…"

"I heard about the show."

"Please don't remind me."

"Look, you're an amazing musician, Edward. You just need to get rid of this stage fright."

I sigh and go back to organizing CDs. I don't like when people have pity for me or try to make me feel better about my failures. So I decide I'm going to ignore my manager.

Jake isn't just my manager. He is my best friend. His dad was a travelling musician and a hippie who decided to live in Las Vegas for a few months to try and make into the entertainment business there. That's where I met them. They introduced me to The Doors and The Beatles and then my life was never the same.

Then he and Jake decided to move to Seattle where they started The Music Box. If he wasn't going to make it in the music business, Billy Black was going to sell it. He then realized people loved to read and watch movies too, so he added a book and movie section. Then the coffee craze hit so he added a small coffee joint. To say the least, Billy is a good businessman and The Music Box is a success.

Jake, being the son of the Old Great One, is the manager of the place after he decided to drop out of college.

"Don't you have some inventory to count, Jake? How about being a real manager?" I tell him.

He chuckles and starts fiddling with the cart full of "classic" albums waiting to be organized and ignored by the multitude who would rather buy shitty music.

"I'm just sayin, this is not new. Remember in 10th grade when we had that talent show? I did a fine job at impersonating Bill Cosby and you…"

"I chocked. I was going to sing _Beside You _by Van Morrison, but instead mumbled into the microphone a deformed version of it," I say.

"I blame Carlisle Cullen."

"What? Why are you blaming Dad?"

"Because he didn't show up that night and he didn't show up last night. He's always telling you how silly this music dream of yours is and I think his words go to your head and make you choke."

"Are you a shrink now? You went from a music store manager to a shrink."

He flips me the bird and starts helping me organize the CDs. "Dude, don't be a prick. All I'm saying is that when someone tells you you're not good enough or that you're stupid so much you will eventually start to believe it."

I don't say anything and stare at the Johnny Cash album in my hands.

"Did you know Johnny suffered through child abuse?"

"Yeah, it tortured the hell out of him mentally. But why do you say that? My father never abused me."

He laughs again. "I'm not saying that. I'm just saying that Johnny had a rough childhood where nobody believed in him, but he didn't give one fuck and went on to become a country legend. Everyone wants to be like him. He was badass dressed in black and who owned the stage with his presence and storytelling."

I sigh. "He was an amazing story teller…Let's just forget about my failures and how about we talk my success."

"Oh, yeah? What's up?"

"Dude, I met a girl."

"Mofo! You finally got laid?!"

I look around and notice a few customers just staring at us. I give them apologetic smiles and slap Jake on the arm.

"Lower your damn voice, boss."

"I'm just happy for you, bro. So who is the lucky lady?"

I smile at the memory of Bella. Sweet Bella. Sweet Bella with rich brown curls, biggest and brightest smile ever and the most glorious giggle.

"Dude, she's awesome. She's funny and quirky. She can draw like nobody's business and is beautiful…she's just ah, ohhh, ummm like," I move my hands in the air. "Pfff, pow! And Bam!"

Jake stares at me for a minute, not looking at all impressed.

"The fuck did you just say?"

I laugh. "Exactly! She's too fucking cute, Dude."

"Cute? Edward Cullen, you write songs and you plan on doing it for a living and you just sounded like the sound effects of a damn Batman episode…and used the adjective 'cute'. The fuck?"

"Don't judge me. If you knew her you would understand."

"I guess."

"Also…we didn't do 'it.'"

"What?"

"We didn't do 'it.'"

He laughs. "Then what the hell did you do?"

I smile at the memory and continue organizing music by genre.

"Sir, can you help me find a CD?" A lady asks.

I ignore Jake's pestering about the amazing girl I met and walk over to the customer. I give her my signature crooked smile and offer my assistance.

"I'm looking for an album for my granddaughter," she says.

"Do you know the artist?"

"I can't remember his name, but he's very romantic."

"Oh, well we have a lot of selections. We have Ed Sheeran, Bon Iver or if you want to go old school we have Van Morrison, Paul McCartney, Prince, and…"

"Justin! Justin Bieber! That's his name."

I sigh and refrain from rolling my eyes.

Music is dead.

"Right this way, ma'am."

~TL~

The afternoon is slow as hell. It's only 2:05 and I get off at 6:00 PM. I'm bored so I head over to customer service where Jake, Jasper and Angela are hanging out.

Jasper is in charge of the movie section and Angela is books.

"So I'm graduating this year," Angela says. "And then it's off to New York to start my internship at the law firm."

"That's great news, Ang. I know I'm going to be starting my internship next year as well," Jasper adds. "My Dad is going to help me move to Los Angeles."

"It's great that he's helping you."

"What about you, Jake? Ever plan on going back to college?"

Jake chuckles and shakes his head. "Nah, school isn't for everybody."

"So what are your plans?"

"Dad is going to hand me over The Music Box and I'm going to run it. I love music and movies, why not sell them for a living? Also, I think I might start a band."

"What?" I ask. Jake was always a great singer, but he couldn't play an instrument and his dyslexia made it hard for him to write songs. "Why haven't you mentioned it?"

"Dude, I didn't want to bring it up while you were getting ready for a big gig. Anyway, I have some great tunes in my mind already."

I pat my friend on the back, hoping it works out for him. "Well that's great, man."

"Yeah, all I need is a band," he says and looks over at Jasper. Jaz was always a great bassist. He loved to groove his baselines over and over again in his bedroom with a shitty amp, annoying the hell out of Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock.

"No, dude. I just told you I'm going to Los Angeles."

"Next year! By then we could be famous."

"You're fucking crazy."

"Edward, why don't you teach me how to play guitar?"

"That takes time."

"Well let's get started!"

"I had a cousin's friend that started his own band," Angela says. "His album tanked and he shot himself."

Everyone stays quiet for an awkward moment before bursting out in laughter.

"Sorry, Ang, I don't mean to laugh, but that shit was awkward…" Jake can't even finish before he starts laughing again.

She flips us all off before the door of the store opens.

Like a damn miracle, she walks into our eye sights. It seems that smile is permanent on her pretty face. She just walks in here with rosy cheeks and her bottom lip in between her teeth, with a peach colored beanie over her curls as if she doesn't know what she does to everybody.

She's beautiful as ever.

"Bella!" Jake shouts, but of course Bella doesn't turn towards him.

"You know her?" I ask.

"Of course I do. She comes in at least once a week to buy a new book."

He walks over to her and taps her shoulder. She jumps, but grins when she recognizes him.

"Bella without a fella, how are you?"

"Good," she simply says.

"New book?" He asks.

She nods.

I hope she takes a glance my way and sees me, because I'm too fucking frozen to in my spot to go her way. But that's all I want.

I want to go to her.

Angela starts walking over to my Bella, but I grab onto her arm.

"Wait, Ang, let me help her."

"What? You don't work in books."

"I know, but I know her…please?"

"Ugh, you guys and hitting on girls at work. You disgust me."

"You just say that because you're a lesbian."

"Duh, and also she's cute. I think we've made a connection."

"Yeah, Ang, she's not a lezzy. Sorry, babe," Jake assures her as he walks back to us.

"How do you know that?"

"Because she blushes around me!"

"She blushes with everyone…she's so cute and sweet. She has such a great taste in literature and she's so smart and funny. I love when she doesn't straighten her hair and leaves it all curly and…" Angela seems to be in a Bella induced daze. The boys look at each other and burst out laughing again.

I can't help but agree with Angela, but I take advantage of her day dreaming and head over to find the girl that has me acting like an idiot.

"Bye, Ang, and thanks," I shout and run over to the book section.

"Ugh, I hate you!" She shouts while Jasper and Jake continue laughing.

I walk through the horror, sci-fi, romance and teen sections until I find my new favorite person. She stands there, in front of the classic novels.

I try to slow down. I'm not sure if I can act like a respectable human being if I get too close too fast. When I walked out of her apartment this morning, I realized she had me in some sort of high. I thought maybe it was the booze still in my system. But now that I see her here, only a few feet away from me, I'm once again levitated high into some stratosphere where epic love songs are written and where you can be a lover free of stage fright.

Free of life fright to be honest.

She would be so creeped out by my sudden obsession with her. Maybe I should tone it down a bit. Maybe I should just say hello and go away. Maybe I should just get Angela. Maybe I can knock on her door and ask for sugar. No that's too lame…maybe…

"Hi!" Her sweet voice shakes me back into reality.

Like an idiot, I just smile and wave at her, still too paralyzed to move.

She has a crumpled paper in her hand. She uses it to wave me towards her. I start to move my legs, but she does the same so we end up bumping into each other.

"So sorry!" I say and bend down to pick her things up. When I hand them back to her, I find her with a grin on her face. I must add that it's much bigger and happier than the smile she gave Jake.

"Hi," I simply say. She tries to hold back a giggle, but it doesn't work. I can see the blush in her cheeks. She really doesn't know what she does to people with that. It's a deadly weapon and she has no clue.

She points at my name tag and with her fingertip underlines the name of the store.

"Yes, I work here."

"Cool."

"How come I've never seen you around?" I ask, trying to speak as normally as possible.

Just like she told me.

She shrugs and hands me the crumpled paper.

It's a list of books. Every single one of them is a classic and a must read. She has over 100 book titles listed and several crossed out. She points at the next one on her list, number thirty _Lie Down in Darkness._

"This is a depressing book," I say.

She furrows her eyebrows and I realize she didn't understand what I said so I repeat myself.

She shrugs and waits for me to help her.

"Oh, well our books are in author alphabetical order. Let me find it for you."

I spend five minutes looking for her book while she silently stands next to me. She smells great. She smells of honey and some other girly shit. I can feel my heart beating like a hammer inside my chest. I hope she can't hear it. There is a bit of sweat on my forehead and I hope she can't see it.

There is a huge smile on my face after she grazes my hand while trying to grab another book.

I hope she can see that.

"It looks like we don't have it," I tell her and she looks disappointed. "We can order it for you and you can maybe she just buy number thirty-one on your list…_The Great Gatsby_."

She shakes her head and points at the one she wants.

"Okay, well let's go order it for you."

I try not to chuckle as Angela glares at me from afar. Bella stands by my side as I order her book on our computer. While I'm busy working, she waves at Angela and at Jasper, but then starts playing with the sleeve of my shirt.

I don't know why she's doing this, but she can do whatever she wants.

"Okay, it's all done. It'll be here in three days," I tell her. She smiles, but nervously hangs around. "You want some coffee?"

She grins and nods, suddenly all nervousness is gone.

"Well, let me buy you a cup…or two…or three."

She leads the way to our small coffee place while I ask Jake for the rest of the afternoon off.

"Dude, please!"

"Edward, you already missed one day of work this week."

"Please, if it gets busy I'll come over and help."

He laughs. "Dude, you really think I would make you work while you're trying to score? What kind of best friend do you think I am?"

"You're the fucking best."

"Yeah, yeah. I just can't believe you managed to get sweet Bella to like you. I'm the charming one."

"Thank you!" I shout, grab the journal he gave me for my birthday and head over to the coffee shop where she's already in line.

I give her a shy smile and she gives me one in return.

"I'll have a simple coffee and she'll have a…" I turn towards her.

"Capaaachino," she says proudly. But before the confused barista can ask what she just said, because he didn't understand her, I repeat her order and eye him to shut the hell up and not ruin it for her.

After we get our drinks, I show her where we can sit down.

I show her my journal and her eyes widen, but she doesn't know what I mean. She just traces the designs on the leather cover with her tiny fingertips.

I open to the first page.

It's blank.

But I have a feeling it won't be blank for long.

"You really come here a lot?"

"Yes."

"How come I've never seen you?"

"Maybe you weren't looking."

"Perhaps. It seems I miss a lot of things."

"It's okay. I just hope you'll start looking for me now."

I chuckle and take the pen from her hand.

"I sure will. I would be crazy if I didn't."

"That's good. I think I'll be able to sleep tonight knowing that."

"Liar."

"Never!"

"So, I know this is kind of blunt and maybe even rude…but have you always been deaf?"

She giggles.

"Yes. All my life. My parent's DNA didn't mix well and I ended up missing some little hairs that everyone has to help the sounds waves transmit…something like that."

"Wow. That's crazy. So how did you learn to lip read and talk?"

"I really don't know how to talk all that well. I know a lot of words, but I could do better. My dad, Charlie, he paid for some really good speech therapy. I learned how to read lips from movies. I taught myself. I didn't have any friends growing up. Kids are freaked out by deformities because they're aren't taught that people can be born 'different.' So I didn't blame them. Instead, I would watch a lot of movies with subtitles. I would read what the actor would say and then rewind to study his or her lips. I had to watch really boring movies, because they don't shout or exaggerate their words. It was hard and at times exhausting. I still can't read all words. I have to use context clues, but it's better than nothing."

"You're amazing."

She giggles again.

"So amazing I can't hear anything over my amazingness."

"You know what I mean."

"Did you always know you wanted to be a musician?"

"I think so. They say you have to do what you love. Well, I love music with my whole heart. It has saved me so many times."

She smiles and sits back in her chair. She stretches and returns to the journal.

She hands it back to me after she's done drawing a guitar with a halo over it. "I like that. You're brave for following what your heart tells you to do. I wish I was the same," she wrote.

"Are you kidding? You're the brave one. You're not afraid to walk out and face this noisy world and tell it who you are. There's nothing braver than that."

"That's only because I won't hear their retaliation. I guess we can both learn from each other. But let's order another cup of coffee first."

We sit at that coffee shop for hours. Cup after cup caffeine is accompanied by writing and drawing.

We talk about her career path dreams. She wants to create logos and marketing designs and work for big companies. She wants to be successful.

We talk about dreams.

We talk about how college life sucks at times and what our favorite flavor of ramen noodles is. We argue about what class is harder and what Seattle bar is better after a long week of studying.

We talk about my plans. We talk about what I could to do with a degree in music if all else fails. We talk about everything in the present and what could happen in the future. She doesn't judge me. She doesn't judge or question my silly dreams of who I want to be and where I want to go.

I can't wait to talk about the past.

I can't wait to talk more about the future.

Before I know it, it's dark outside and time to go.

She answers with a doodled version of me when I ask her if she would like to come over for dinner sometime this week.

My cartoon version has a concentrated look on my face and a large pencil his hand. It's pointed towards the blank area of the page with the sentence, "We can continue writing this song after dinner at your place tomorrow night." She takes it back, writes something else but then closes it shut before I can read it.

I just nod and walk her to her car. She places her purse inside and then turns towards me. She hand gestures "goodbye." I do the same, but she doesn't move. The pensive look on her face is adorable. She takes a deep breath as if making up her mind.

She places her fingertips over the side of her mouth and then moves them up to her cheek.

I mirror her actions. "What does that mean?" I ask.

She giggles, pulls me forward by the lapels of my coat, jumps to her tippy toes and places a gentle kiss on my cheek.

"Oh…" is all that I can manage to say. I can't help the stupid grin that appears on my face. "I think that's my favorite so far," I tell her.

She nods in agreement and gets into her car.

As she drives off, I watch as her headlights disappear into the distance. I open up the journal to read her last words.

"I can't believe I made the first move. I win. You lose."

I laugh into the emptiness of the parking lot.

I don't mind losing.

I don't mind it at all.

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**Let me know what ya think! Please? Love ya'll long time.**

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	4. A Song about a Yellow Dress

**Ah! Still can't believe the reviews this little story is getting. You guys are the best.**

**No beta. Please ignore any errors and that includes comma vomit or lack of.**

**Those pesky little things.**

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Chapter 4- A Song about a Yellow Dress

"So…do you know what kind of food she likes?"

"Uh, no."

"How about favorite book of all time?"

"Um, nope."

"How about favorite hobby?"

"I'm guessing reading, Edward."

"Ha! You're wrong. It's drawing. You're really not helping me, Ang."

Angela rolls her eyes and continues to organize the mess of books scattered on the floor in the children's section.

"It's not like we talked. She's deaf!"

"I thought you were crushing on her?"

She laughs. "So?"

"So? If you're crushing on someone, you gotta try and get to know them. Even if they can't hear you."

She sighs and starts walking away.

"Where are you going? You have to help me! And these books are still a mess."

"You're not my boss and I can't help you, Edward. I just know Bella loves to read, classic shit by the way and she is sweet as can be."

I follow her to our self-help/learn on your own section. I know she's really annoyed by me. I can tell because she keeps running away from me and rolling those huge blue saucers of hers. But I can't give up. I really want to make my first date with Bella amazing.

"Well use your brain," she tells me.

I lean against one of the bookshelves and pout. "Please, pretty Angie?"

"You're forgetting I'm not interested in your pouty face. Maybe if you had tits and a vag I would."

"Jesus Christ, you're a classy lady."

She winks and blows me a kiss as she walks away.

Again.

"Fine, Ang! Don't help your brother in need!"

"You're charming…or so I've heard. You'll figure it out. And you're not my brother! That's how rumors get started!"

I bang my head against the bookshelf, hoping something will come to mind.

After much consideration, I walked over to Bella's apartment this morning and asked her if she maybe wanted to go out for dinner. She didn't even hesitate and said yes. It was too easy. I'm scared my good luck will soon end and she'll find out that I've been a baboon all along. She'll see that she was fooled by my easy charm and good looks…

I laugh at my own joke and finally look up.

There!

How come I didn't think of it before?

_You're really going to learn all of it just for a girl?_

_For Bella. Get it right, strange voice in my mind. By the way, why do you have an Italian accent?_

I grab the book titled _Learn_ _American Sign Language_. I flip through the pages and try to follow the instructions for some words. There is a picture of a man signaling each part of the word so the reader can follow along.

_Hmm, that makes sense. Oh, why would you hand signal like that for that word…oh, that's easy enough. What if I close my fist the wrong way? What if I motion in the wrong direction? Does it change the meaning of the word?_

"Yo, Ed!" Jake shouts through the store's intercom.

Very professional.

We're a bunch of monkeys.

"Customer in music waiting for you."

I look down at the book in my hands. Yes. I think I'll buy my first book in months.

I smile to myself as I place the book under my arm and head over to help our customer. I haven't been this motivated or dedicated in a while. Well, there is my music. But music has always been part of my life so that's not new.

But this girl is something special. I just know it.

I walk towards my area, but as soon as that pixie hairdo catches my eye, my feet completely stop.

Jesus, she has a mean glare.

"You!" She shouts.

Hell…

"Yes? May I help you find a CD?"

"Cut the crap, lover boy," the small creature says.

My mouth is opened and my hands are moving, but I'm not saying anything. What should I say? Should I apologize for liking her friend?

No.

"I really don't understand your hate for me, little one," I tell her.

She raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me. "My friend Bella…ring any bells?"

"Of course. More than one."

She sticks her chest out like one of those birds you see in cartoons and places a hand on her small waist.

"I hope you know she's my best friend since the beginning of time and I love her very much."

"That's great…"

"I'm not finished!"

"Okay, sorry…"

"You better not be playing with her."

"What? Why would I do that?"

"Because it's happened before. Some stupid boys think they can play around, but my Bella is smart. She might be missing a sense she has a good one with knowing people's vibe."

"Then why would it fail this time around?"

"I don't know! It must be your stupid good looks that might be blinding her."

I chuckle at my new friend.

"Look, I think Bella is a great girl. We're gonna go on a date. It's not like I'm promising her the moon and my whole life...yet."

"Well you're gonna want to do those things. She's one of a kind, Edward Cullen."

"You know my whole name. She must talk a lot about me," I tease, but she's not impressed. "I'm kidding…" I say leaning into a CD cart, but the damn thing doesn't support my weight and slides away making me fall on my ass.

"Oh, God…you sure are a dork. Just like Bella. I think I'm suffering from second hand embarrassment," she says and helps me up. She grabs my book and with one look at it, I know I might have her on my side. "_Learn American Sign Language_?" she sighs, trying her best not to smile.

"Is it too much?" I ask.

"No," she huffs. "It's effin cute."

I chuckle, thinking I've won her over.

"Not so fast," she warns. "You stay off three topics when you're talking to her and you'll have my support."

Strange, but whatever gets her to stop pestering.

"Okay, sure. What are they?"

"Do you have pen and paper?"

I roll my eyes. "I'm sure I can remember."

"You better, Edward Cullen." She takes a deep sigh, look up at the ceiling, closes her eyes and then opens them again. "Don't bring up her mother, her past boyfriend or her mother."

"You said her mother twice…"

"Just don't talk about her!"

"Okay, okay, damn."

~TL~

Thou shalt not screw this up.

Thou shalt not come off an ass.

Thou shalt not talk about pretty girl's mom.

I take a deep breath, fix my shirt and hair.

I think I'm ready.

Who am I kidding? I haven't been on a date in ages.

"You're always dating young pretty girls," I tell Paul McCartney. He's holding onto John Lennon's shoulder as the band smiles at the camera. The picture hangs over my TV. I found it at a music shop in Los Angeles during a road trip I took with Jake and our friends from high school. It's supposedly signed by Paul himself and even though I don't believe it, I had to have it. "You're not even handsome, dude. It's those damn songs you write. You have to give me your secret." I wipe dust from the picture frame with my thumb and straightened it on the wall as I notice it's crooked. "Wish me luck."

I knock on Bella's door and hope she can feel it. But I don't have to hope for very long, because as soon I stop the knocking, the piece of wood that keeps me from her flies open and there, standing in a soft yellow dress, is the girl I hope soon becomes mine.

Am I going too fast? My brain and heart are sure making plans and this just our first date.

_Have you seen her, you fool? _

_Yeah, have you seen her?_

Yellow dress, porcelain white skin, heart shaped face and brown curls.

How can I not see her?

I shake my head, trying to snap out of my daze and clear my throat. I take a deep breath and mentally prepare myself. I don't know why this is nerve wracking.

She smiles, but raises an eyebrow as if confused about what I'm up to.

"You," I point. "Look," I move my index finger and middle finger in a "v" shape forward, away from my eyes. "Beautiful," I say as I wave my hand over my face.

Her smile turns into a huge grin and then quickly transforms into a giggle. She covers her mouth in shyness as she is overtaken by a fit of giggles. She places her hands over her blushing cheeks after a few seconds, still smiling and that sparkle in her brown eyes even brighter now.

All my practicing of that one sentence in sign language was well worth it.

She takes a breath.

"You too," she says while signing as well.

I take her hand with my right one while my left hand holds my journal. There is a pen in my pocket and a racing heart is in my chest.

We are all set.

~TL~

I take Bella to the nice restaurant down the street. She holds my hand, not letting go as we wait for a table to be cleared. Her big brown eyes wander around as people leave and come in. She then looks at me, gives me a smile and returns to explore her surroundings.

I begin to think that this is how Bella prepares for the noisy world we live in. One in which she may feel left out sometimes. Lucky us that can hear when someone is in trouble, when someone yelling or crying or when the weather is getting bad. Bella can't hear anything, so she has to analyze everything with her eyes.

I squeeze her hand and caress the skin below my thumb to let her know that the coast is clear. No danger here. It's just the two of us on a date with some insignificant strangers in the background to fill in the emptiness of our surroundings.

When we are finally at our table, I open my journal to the next blank page.

The server asks what we would like to drink. I look over to her so she can order first just in case she needs help.

I shouldn't be surprised.

She doesn't need my help.

"Beer," she says without a care in the world.

I chuckle, loving that she doesn't want wine or any other shit the date rulebook would probably suggest.

The server looks at me.

"I'll have a beer as well." He smiles and excuses himself.

"How was your day?" I write and pass her the journal.

So that's how it starts.

Our conversation about everything and anything. Five pages of the journal are filled with words, question and exclamations marks. They're filled with a conversation between two people just trying to get to know each other.

Oh, there are some doodles Bella just _needed _to draw.

She talks about the job she just got as a cook because she doesn't have to hear customers. She talks about her TV's closed captions not working and how she's missing her favorite show. It's difficult to read the actor's lips, because of their British accents.

I talk about my day at work and how I'm signing up for classes as the fall semester is close. I tell her Jasper could probably fix her TV, he's tech geek. That brings up the topic of my friends. So I talk about how Jake and Jasper have always been there and how Angela has become a close friend in such short time of knowing her.

"Alice came to visit me today," I write.

"Oh, no! Whatever she told you, I'm so sorry."

I laugh. "She's just a protective and good friend."

"A little too protective. I love her though. She's my best friend. My sister really."

"How long have you known her?"

"Since I started going to what I call deaf school, around the age of four."

"Why was she there? She can hear."

She giggles. "Both her parents are deaf. She was born with hearing, so her parents needed her to learn sign language to communicate with her. You can say she knows what I go through and understands my world. We became instant friends, always attached by the hip even though we're so different. She's been my ears to the world. She's always been there for me, in the good and the bad, especially during my heartaches. That's why she's so protective. She doesn't want me to get hurt."

"She's an amazing friend. I'm glad she's been there for you during those mentioned heartaches that I don't think you deserved."

She giggles. "You don't even know what caused those heartaches."

"I don't need to know that to know you didn't deserve them."

"Why?"

"You're such an amazing person. Why would someone like you ever be deserving of hurt?"

"Thank you, Edward. You're so sweet. I don't think anybody is deserving of pain, but it might be necessary in order to learn. I would like to think that I've learned from those aches and grown as a person."

She finishes her second beer and gives me a satisfied smile.

I'm convinced.

I'm certain that Bella Swan is that one girl you only meet once and that you're supposed to try and keep and fuck it up.

I stare on in silence for a few minutes. Usually on a date, these silences are awkward and uncomfortable, but not for me with Bella.

I stare as she waves and smiles at the baby at the table next to us. She then turns and looks at me. Not afraid to look at me right in the eyes.

I chuckle and suddenly I feel giddy like a school boy with his crush. In a giddy gesture, I start playing with the table cloth, but as my eyes catch my watch, I jump in my seat in the realization that we might be late to the second part of our date if I don't start acting my age.

I take the movie tickets out of my pocket and show them to her.

She writes in our journal and gives it back to me.

"Wow! You're really trying to impress me. A French movie? You like foreign movies?"

"Well, I've never really paid much attention to them before, but this one is a French romance and it has subtitles you can read. I'll be reading them too since I don't know a word of French. We can read subtitles together."

She laughs, takes my hand in hers for a moment, but she can't hold it for too long as she has to write back.

"Fine, I must admit it. I'm impressed, Edward Cullen. Very impressed. Or more like charmed. Yeah, that's it. I'm very charmed by your magical ways," she wrote. She also drew me again in a cartoon version with a stereotypical French moustache.

I grin. "Mission accomplished."

~TL~

Who knew the French had so much drama and bad acting.

"Awful," I say and Bella laughs.

"Agreed," she says. "Bad movie."

"Sorry," I say, rubbing my chest with a closed fist.

She quickly shakes her head. She takes my journal and scribbles away.

"It was fun! I don't regret that one hour and a half of French angst. I would do it again if it meant you would make those faces again."

"Jerk."

She giggles.

We walk back home. She holds onto my hand as I lead her there. The city nightlife lights up the streets and Bella's skin. I let my eyes explore how beautiful she looks in that yellow dress. She catches me and rolls her eyes with a grin on her face.

When we get to her door, I take my journal out and write.

"Thank you for joining me on this date."

"Thanks for bringing me along."

"You're so brave. I admire you."

"Why do you say/write that?"

"Because…why are you not afraid to give me a chance? You can't hear me. I know that's a weird thing to say/write, but I think I would be scared of the world if I didn't have a sense. You can't hear if I'm being an ass."

She laughs. "Tell me what you see and feel."

I look at her after reading. She places her hands over my ears and tightly secures them from noise.

I stand there, with Bella's small hands covering my ears and a stupid smile on my face. She smells nice and her forearms feel soft and warm against my cheeks.

"I feel…and see…you," I say.

I take her hands away from my ears and place them over my chest. Suddenly I can hear Ms. Lorrie's newborn baby crying next door and a police siren passing by our apartment building. I place Bella's hands over my ears again, take her face in mine, and without struggle press my lips to hers.

They're soft and warm and I think I'm lost. I can't hear anything and only feel her lips against mine. I pull away, give her a few pecks and wait for her to open her eyes.

"I win. You lose," I say as her big brown eyes stare at me. They seem darker than usual now that her cheeks are red with blush.

"Good," she responds and kisses me again.

~TL~

The moon shines through my window and down on Bella's sleeping form. She lies on my bed, still wearing that yellow dress.

I invited her into my apartment for some drinks and for a tour of the small place I call home, but we ended up on my couch in full make out mode.

I smile at the memory as I try to fall asleep in my "good clothes." They're uncomfortable as hell but when Bella's lips stopped kissing me, I realized she was tired and carried her to my bed. She mumbled something while moving her hands and then placed her head over my chest and called it a night.

Whatever she wanted to say will be a mystery. I doubt she'll remember it.

Now I can't dare myself to move. Her head is now on my pillow, but she clings to my shirt with her tiny fist. She mumbles a few more sounds and uses my shirt to pull herself closer to me. She sighs and finally stays completely still.

The hell with comfort.

I gently wrap arm around her and kiss her temple.

I look over to Paul.

"Bet you can't write a song that lives up to this moment," I whisper. I chuckle at my nonsense. "Thanks for the good luck, Paul."

~TL~

The smell of bacon and my father's voice wakes me up from my peaceful sleep.

Holy shit.

I sit up so fast my head spins.

Bella.

She's not next to me.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my son's apartment? Are you deaf or something?"

And this definitely my father's voice.

**Eeek!**

**The review box is also there so you can slap me for the cliffie.**

**Roughneck update will come soon. **

**Follow me on twitter at HelloElla90. I'll start posting teasers for both stories there.**

**Adios.**


	5. A Song about Letters

**Ah! It's been so long! *sigh* No excuses.**

**Anywho, thank you all for the reviews and the love! **

******Thank you to SunflowerFran3759 for her beta skills. Any mistakes are mine for deciding to add at the last minute!**

* * *

Chapter 5- A Song about Letters

I was pleasantly sleeping and dreaming of the sweet girl next door, when suddenly my father's voice rumbled in my very small apartment.

"Are you deaf or something?" He shouts.

Bella!

I jump to my feet and rush to save her from the evil rage that is my father and also that huge vein that pops out from his neck when he's pissed off.

There, in my small and pathetic excuse of a kitchen is Bella, my sweet Bella. She's still in that yellow dress she wore last night. Carlisle Cullen is hovering over her, waiting for an answer. She's nervously looking around as if trying to find a way out of this situation.

"Dad!" I shout.

Carlisle jumps, but when he sees me, he's back to being the short tempered man he's always been.

"Edward, who in the hell is this girl?"

"How did you get into my apartment? I think that's the real question."

He huffs. "I knocked and knocked until this young lady opened the door," he says pointing at Bella who is wide eyed and as far as possible from him. "She's a little strange. She just stares at me and doesn't even say a word."

"Dad, that's because you're yelling and she's deaf. She can't read your lips when you're acting like a monster."

"She's deaf?" he asks in disbelief. He turns to her, gives a grin I know it not real and a wave. "I'm sorry."

Sweet Bella just nods and gives him a small smile.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" I ask him.

"I'm your father. Do I really have to announce my presence? Besides, you invited me to this gloomy city."

"Yes, when I had my gig, which was days ago!"

"Son, you know why I couldn't make it. Don't be childish."

"Well I'm busy right now. I have a guest."

Carlisle gives me a stern look, but before I can argue Bella starts waving at us for attention.

"I'll be back later," she says, while hand signing at the same time.

As she starts walking towards the door, I run to her, not caring that my Dad is chuckling at my lack of smoothness. I take Bella's hands in mine and stare into her chocolate brown eyes. Even with her day old makeup and her now messy curls, she's the most beautiful girl I've ever known.

"Thanks for going out with me," I say. She nods letting me know she's understood. "I'll come over later if that's okay."

She turns towards Dad who is staring out a window. She smiles, jumps to her toes and smacks a kiss on my cheek before leaving.

I have to shake the Bella induced haze I am in before facing _him_.

"Are you playing with that girl?" Dad asks.

"What? No. Why would you say that?"

He sighs and takes a seat on my couch, making himself at home.

"A deaf girl, really? What could you possibly have in common? It's obvious what you're doing."

"She's an amazing person."

"Son, I meet a lot of amazing people as a doctor. People who can't talk, speak, see or even think on their own, but at the end of the day I'm still a doctor and they're just people. Don't lead this poor girl on too long."

I sit across from him and look at the ground noticing that his shoes are extra shiny today. Even when just visiting his son, he has to dress like an important doctor and not like the man that showed me how to play baseball before Mom died.

"Dad, I'm really happy you finally came to visit me. We haven't spent much time together and I really feel like we should since you're all I've got when it comes to family. It's sad to say that the lack of quality time is showing because you don't know me very well when it comes to girls. I'm not some asshole. I'm really interested in Bella."

He takes a deep breath and checks his watch before directing his blue eyes at me. "I'm happy I came as well, Edward, but it's really your fault we don't spend time together. You could live closer, but you've decided to live in this city and pursue a career path that will lead you nowhere. I'm just waiting for you to realize it, and when you do, I'll be there to help you and support you, and this 'quality time 'you speak of won't be an issue."

I stopped looking at him and I try my best not to listen to him, because I've heard this speech so many times before and it never fails to piss me off. But I can't help it and I listen to every word. This time I don't try and defend myself or my choices; I just stare at his shiny shoes again.

He spends a few more minutes judging the mess that is my apartment, my lack of food in the fridge, my lack of vehicle, and the low-rated neighborhood I live in before checking his watch again.

"I actually have a conference that will start soon. I'll call you later. We should have dinner, Son," he says, as he pats me on the shoulder and leaves.

That's my Dad.

I slouch on my couch and stare at my music posters. He really has a way with words. All I want to do is prove to him that I can do this and for the great Carlisle Cullen to be proud of me, but luck is never on my side when it comes to that man.

I was always a good kid, if we ignore those small incidents in high school that every young man should have…

But being 'good' has never been enough for Dad.

Yes, I know I sound like whiny puss and so cliché, but it's the truth.

Dad has always been a strict and serious man. But when Mom was alive, he could also be this goof with a cheesetastic grin.

But now he's justa dick.

Uncle Larry says I got my heart and personality from Mom, and that I should be thankful that I'm not like his brother. And just like Mom, I like to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, and excuse their poor behavior since it could be part of their life's tragedies

My Dad's tragedy was losing Mom.

I can't blame him for being shattered about it.

I can't imagine losing the girl of my dreams like that.

A few moments later, there is a knock on my door. I slowly make my way to it and when I open it I find Bella. She's freshly showered; her clean, pretty face proof of it. She's wearing jeans and that same Forks High School sweater she wore the first night I met her.

I give her a smile and hope it's big enough for her to notice. I step to the side so she can come in and she does. She turns and studies my face before speaking.

"Are you okay?" she asks, moving her hands.

"My Dad, he's just a special man."

She doesn't seem to understand my comment but I'm too bummed to repeat myself and instead head over to my couch again.

She sits next to me with a deep sigh. We sit in silence for a few minutes while my father's words dance around in my brain like a bad pop song. Suddenly Bella starts playing with my sleeve and rubbing my arm as well.

"I wish you could hear me," I say lowly. She doesn't turn to me. "It would be much easier to tell you how I feel."

She finally glances my way, gives me a sweet smile and stands up. Her eyes start to wander around my living room and finally they land on my posters and vinyl records. She casually walks over to them and picks up Nirvana's _Nevermind _and points at the naked baby on the cover.

She raises an eyebrow before busting into a fit of giggles.

I smirk at her amusement, still not feeling ready to join her in laughter.

She digs through more of my records. She points and laughs or just studies the cover art intently. I imagine her artsy brain is spinning with ideas and inspiration. I wonder if she feels the same about pictures and drawings as I feel about music. It's the first time I really let her into my world. These past few days have all been about me trying to get to know her, that I hadn't given a thought to my music or letting her know more about my passion.

I'm not sure she would understand it anyway.

There is just something about music that moves me. If it's not the instrument it's the singer's words and voice. Nothing can compare. So without hearing any of that, she wouldn't understand.

I feel her sit next to me. She shoves a Johnny Cash album into my view and makes a sound to get my attention.

I take the album in my hands and study Johnny's older, sadder face.

"Who is he?" She asks.

"A sad man with a great voice," I say.

"What?" She says loudly.

I huff and throw the album to my side and lean back into the couch. I rub my face. "Just! You wouldn't understand, Bella," I tell her in a raised voice, and I know my face is showing my annoyance.

I quickly see that she understood _that_.

Her sweet face suddenly turns hard and her eyes are glaring down into my soul.

She snaps up to her feet.

"Ashhole!" She shouts, while simultaneously making a hand gesture that sure looks like an anus - and before I know it, Bella is at my door.

"Bella! Wait!" I shout, even though she can't hear me. "I am an _ashhole_," I say, using her mispronounced version of the word. "But please forgive me." I plead and hope that somehow she understands what I'm trying to accomplish as I follow her out into thehallway and to her door.

She walks into her apartment and flips me off before slamming the door in my face.

I sigh at my pathetic state.

There I am, standing in front of Bella's apartment in my wrinkled suit and feeling like a complete dick.

~TL~

"Emmett, you better not be bullshitting."

"Why would I be..."

"Because bullshitting is on your resume under things you're good at."

"Dude, that's a lame joke."

I sigh. "Yeah, you're right. I'm running low on wit."

"Well this is gonna fucking wake you up! You have five months to write a couple of awesome songs and get over this stage fright disorder you have!"

Rosalie, Emmett's lovely and insane wife, had scored a major event at her bar. An entire weekend of indie rock bands and solo acts. Emmett thought it would be great if he signed me up without asking first.

Now I have a gig.

Suddenly I feel the anxiety and desperation clouding my mind. But not even this wave of dark excitement ignites the creative side of mybrain.

"Dude, I really do appreciate it, I just…"

"Hell no, I know you. Don't you dare come up with an excuse. Five months, get on it!"

The phone line goes dead.

I look at my guitar and then at my journal.

Words start flowing out of my brain and onto the paper.

Except I'm not creating a song.

But I think I'm okay with that.

~TL~

_Dear Bella,_

_I'm so sorry for acting like an asshole. It was obvious you were trying to distract me so that I could stop feeling bad about my jerk of a father, but I completely blew you off! That was me being an asshole as you so rightfully pointed out._

_If you can give me a chance to make it up to you, I would be a perfect goof. So perfect it would make you gag. _

_That was me trying to make you smile. I sure do hope you're smiling. No? How about now? Okay, how about you let me try to make you smile in person and answer the door? I've showered, ate some delicious Honey Oats, watched some bad TV and have revived myself__into your loyal…whatever you want me to be._

_Too soon to ask since I pissed you off? _

_Fair enough._

_Okay I'll stop writing now._

_For the record you look lovely in those sweats. You're not like one of those girls that looks haggard when at home. You're just lovely. And you smell lovely too. You smell like some flowery shit you probably put in your clothes while washing them or it's probably your lotion. I really love that. You're a great kisser too._

_Okay, for sure I need to stop writing blabber before I give myself a stroke._

_Sincerely,_

_Edward the Idiot_

_P.S Johnny Cash is a country legend. He had a hard life since the day he was born. Therefore most of his music is depressing as hell. Also, it explains the dramatic album cover. _

I slid that letter under Bella's door twenty minutes ago.

I chew at my thumb and pretend my pen is a drum stick. I use it to beat the shit out of my journal, hoping some damn lyrics will magically appear on these currently blank pages.

I also keep glancing at my door, hoping Bella has responded. I could have probably given her my phone number so she can text me like every person in the world, but where is the romance in that? Also, I don't know if she has a phone. I mean…is that a rude thought to have? Do deaf people use phones? I am an _ashhole_.

I place my pen to the paper and I'm about to write the first word of a song for the first time in weeks when suddenly I hear the sliding of paper under the door.

I jump out of my chair, almost tripping on my own feet, and run to the door. I snatch it open, hoping to find Bella still around, but the slamming of her own door assures me that I'm too late.

I huff and look at the paper at my feet.

I pick it up and read too fast. I skip some words hoping to find the phrases "you're forgiven" or "you're not an asshole" or even "come over." But I huff again when I don't find them and start from the beginning.

_Dear Edward,_

_I don't know why you're writing to me as if we were in 1918 when you could just ask for my cell phone number. And yes, deaf people own phones. I do enjoy the occasional Candy Crush and I Instagram a bunch of crap that is not art._

_That's beside the point. (But really? Why must these people post pictures of their Starbucks lattes every morning? Just because you made the picture black and white and the whip cream looks cool in the coffee, doesn't mean you have to paparazzi the shit out of it.)_

_Anywho…I think your blabber is contagious. I must see a doctor as soon as possible._

_I would invite you over to talk things out, but you've upset me. Wait…that's the polite way of saying it. I think I shall change that to "You've pissed me off." Yeah, that's better. _

_Also, I rather enjoy these letters. You have awful handwriting, but I like it. It has character. Like your crooked nose and that scar on the side of it. Or your chin. What's it called when you have a chin like yours? I know it has a name…anyway, I think it's cute._

_Thank you for calling me lovely, but how do I know that you're honest and it's not that you're brainwashing me into forgiving you?_

_Hmmm (I actually have never heard anybody make this sound. Obviously. But the characters in my books always do that when pondering…)_

_The mystery remains._

_Sincerely,_

_Bitter Bella_

_P.S I Googled Mr. Cash. He had a horrible father. I also read some of his lyrics. I think he used his father as inspiration. You see when something is eating at you, you have to learn to turn the turmoil into gold. Nothing is sweeter. Of course, I wouldn't know. My mother has yet to see the gold I made from my angsty youth. So you don't have to believe me. But I hope you do, because I still like you…_

_P.S._

_A lot_

_Dear Bella,_

_That's actually a scar on my chin. I was 8 years old and I found my father's razor. Long story made short, I wanted to be a man already and my poor chin paid the price._

_I'm glad my awful handwriting has charm, but sorry that it's not enough charm to make you open the door for me. I guess I deserve it, though. _

_It's amazing how without hearing a single sound, you understood Johnny. You're right, he did turn his pain into music. But unlike John, I don't hold grudges._

_I wish I did. _

_I could be one of those tormented souls and artists. I could wear all black and be popular with the ladies, because for some reason your gender likes the brooding faces. _

_But also I could tell my dad__how I really feel about him and not forgive him five minutes after he's made me mad._

_Do you hold grudges? I know that's a strange question. You don't have to answer…maybe._

_I'm sorry your mom caused you angst. I'm going to break Alice's rule and ask you about her. Where is your mother?_

_P.S Candy Crush is Satan's game._

_Dear Edward,_

_I think it's sweet you don't hold grudges. (It doesn't mean you're forgiven…I just said you were sweet and that is all). But not holding grudges doesn't mean you're not scarred. _

_Just like those scars on your chin and nose._

_They exist._

_I know mine do. _

_Please don't listen to Alice. I love her dearly, but don't listen to her. She's defended me for too long. At school, when kids would pick on me, she would push them away or use her wit to make them feel stupid. As adults, she defends me against men. Which is nice and all, but I kind of have needs._

_You can laugh now._

_Really…_

_Laugh._

_Okay._

_Where is my mother? I don't know. She sent me a Christmas card…in February. That's the last time I heard from her. _

_But let's not talk about Renee. Hell, let's not talk about your father._

_Well, you don't have to write about sad childhoods, bleeding chins or angry fathers. You can write about happy things too. _

_You can sing about love. Shocker, I know. _

_Have you ever been in love, Edward Cullen?_

_Sincerely,_

_A nicer Bella_

_P.S I'm not really mad at you and there is nothing to forgive. See? I don't hold grudges either. _

I grin from ear to ear as I trace the drawing she included under the last sentence. It's a cartoon version of herself wearing that raggedy sweater with a halo over her head.

_Dear Bella,_

_Lisa Garcia, third grade. She was the woman I loved for that whole year. She broke my heart by ignoring me, refusing to share the swing set and moving away at the beginning of fourth grade._

_She ruined me for any other girls._

_Just kidding._

_Maybe I could write about you… I mean…if that's okay. _

_Isn't it strange that we write and sing along to songs about a feeling _that_many of us have not even experienced or have even affected us at all? _

_I think I am blabbering again._

_Would you like to hang out? Jacob and our friends are going to have band practice and a small party. You can even bring Alice. _

_Let me know._

_Sincerely,_

_A hopeful love song writer_

_P.S I'm glad you're over the "me being an asshole" ordeal. Like really glad. Like really, really, really glad. Really._

I wait for Bella's response while strumming my guitar. After I start playing a new song, I realize Bella has taken longer to reply this time around.

Maybe the letter didn't make it all the way in the apartment.

I open my door and find the floor clear of any letters, but suddenly there is a male voice shouting from Bella's opened apartment door.

I feel my chest rise and my fist close, ready to beat the motherfucker who dares shout at her.

I make it to her living room and find a tall blonde guy angrily hand signaling at Bella while shouting words with a strange accent, asking her not to be so bitter and to forgive him.

He's a little too close to her.

I don't think, and suddenly I have a tight hold of blondie's shirt and a fist up in the air ready to hurt him.

"Don't you ever get that close to Bella, she clearly doesn't want you around, fuckface!" I shout. He grimaces and covers one ear.

"Edward," I hear Bella call me, but I ignore her and shake the fool in my hands.

He nervously raises his shaky hands up in surrender. His widen blue eyes try to find her, but I don't let him.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water as if trying to say something. "Puh-please don't hurt meh," he says moving his hands. "I'm just thrying to thalk to my fiancée."

Suddenly I realize a few things.

This guy is deaf too.

And … Bella is engaged?

My blood boils and my grip on his shirt gets tighter.

Maybe I can write that angry song now.

* * *

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	6. That One Song About Living

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**Thank you to SunflowerFran3759 for her beta skills. Any mistakes are mine for deciding to add at the last minute!**

* * *

Chapter 6- That One Song About Living

"_Edward," I hear Bella call me, but I ignore her and tighten my hold on the fool in my hands._

_He nervously raises his shaky hands up in surrender. His widened, blue eyes try to find her, but I don't let him._

_He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water as if trying to say something. "Puh-please don't hurt meh," he says moving his hands, mispronouncing words like Bella. "I'm just thrying to thalk to my fiancée." _

_Suddenly I realize a few things._

_This guy is deaf too._

_And … Bella is engaged?_

_My blood boils and my grip on his shirt gets tighter. _

_Maybe I can write that angry song now._

"Edward!" Bella shouts again and tries to pull this fool out of my grasp.

His eyes keep moving between Bella and me as if hoping she decides to help him. All the moving and pushing makes what I assume is his hearing aid, fall out of his ear.

"Edward, sthap. Let Mike go," Bella says firmly.

I really don't know why I keep pulling on this guy's shirt, so I throw her a glare and shove Mike a little too hard, making him stumble back.

He heaves, and without taking his eyes off me, moves to stand behind Bella's couch as if trying to hide.

"Sorry," I finally say. After all, it's not his fault his _fiancée _has been lying to me. I throw another glare her way. She furrows her eyebrows in confusion at my sudden anger, but she doesn't deserve an explanation, so I storm off back to my apartment.

I'm an idiot for thinking I had met such an amazing girl! And we were so close to having sex last night. I enjoyed the 'almost' sex with her a lot, and now she had to go and ruin everything.

"Edward!" She shouts again as I make it back into my apartment. She's fast on her feet and doesn't give me a chance to shut the door. "What's wrong?" She asks and signs at the same time.

I turn to let her know exactly what is wrong, but there, standing behind her is a cowardly looking Mike. He gasps when my eyes catch him.

"Why didn't you tell me you're engaged?" I say.

Bella stares at my lips and continues to look confused.

"What?"

"I said, why didn't you tell me you were engaged?" I say pointing at her and Mike. It takes her a moment, but suddenly, realization lightens up her face.

"I really liked you," I say pathetically.

She shakes her head and before I can ask her to leave, she points at her left hand.

"No ring!" She shouts, but when she realizes I'm not understanding, she huffs and turns back to Mike. "Leave!" She yells at him, shoves him out of my apartment and slams the door shut.

"Edward, Mike is a liar," she says and signs. "I, uh..."

"Is he your ex-boyfriend?"

She nods. "He, uh, I broke him up."

I chuckle. "You mean you broke up with him?"

She nods again. "I, uh, um - "she shoves her hands in her hair.

I sigh and hand her my journal and a pen.

"_I haven't spoken to him in months. Please don't be mad at me. I don't know how he found me. He just can't get the clue."_

"_Were you engaged with him?"_

"_No. He asked me to marry him and when I said no, he wouldn't drop the subject so I ended it. We weren't on the same page."_

I don't respond and instead go into the kitchen for a glass of water. I'm suddenly parched. It's strange to know she had a serious relationship before me. I mean, I know I'm sounding unreasonable and possessive, but it really felt like she and I had something that nobody else in the world has ever experienced.

The subtle touches and stares. The passionate kissing and the immediate comfort we felt in each other's presence has never been felt by anybody during the existence of this world.

Okay, okay, I am delusional. This is all really my fault.

I can see her from the corner of my eye as she nervously bounces from one foot to the other waiting for me to decide whether I'm mad or not. She jumps when I hand her a glass of her own. I smirk at her and head back to the couch.

She begins to sign and says, "Are you mad?"

I grab my journal and write my response.

"_I'm just surprised. Why would I be mad?"_

"_The vein in your forehead is intense."_

_I roll my eyes, even though I know it's true. I inherited that angry vein from my father._

"_I just can't believe you're a heartbreaker."_

"_It's not my fault I'm dreamy."_

She giggles when I glare at her_._

"_I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Mike. I just didn't think it was the moment."_

"_No, you don't have to apologize. It's too early to talk about past love interests, unless you want to talk about it and get it out of the way."_

"_About Mike? I met him back home when he moved there during senior year. We had the same speech teacher and started hanging out. He asked, I said no, and then that's it."_

We don't talk after I ask her if she wants something to eat before I head over to Jake's place. She sits at the kitchen counter and stares as I make us some pasta. She smiles at me and starts to doodle in our journal.

This is nice. Though I would like someone to talk to about what's going on in my mind, it's nice to have her presence. I've dated girls that didn't shut up, so this is a nice change. She slides the journal over to me after I place a plate of food in front of her.

I chuckle at her drawing of an angry me and an exaggerated vein on my forehead. I lightly pinch her cheek making her squeal.

I eat faster than her, and soon I'm staring at her as she sucks her spaghetti noodles into her mouth. Now, I know that there isn't a way to elegantly eat spaghetti, but Bella sure does make it look quite …'interesting.' I shake my head to get rid of the image of her puckered lips out of my mind, since I'm feeling that all, too familiar, twitch in my pants.

She sucks one more noodle and pushes her plate away, before looking up and giving me a huge grin. She lifts her hand and wipes at the sauce that must still be on my face.

"Why don't you have a hearing aid?" I ask it twice and then she understands me.

"They gave me headaches and didn't work that well for me," she says slowly. It's probably the longest sentence I've ever heard her say.

"Aren't you curious to hear the world? Aren't you curious to hear music? My voice? Your voice?"

She smiles and shakes her head. "I used to be curious, but I don't mind anymore. I'm okay."

Somehow, I really love this about her. She's accepted who she is and lives with it. Perhaps having a hearing aid would make her life easier, but she's learned to live without one.

We clean up the kitchen, and she goes back to her place to get dressed. Then we head over to Jake's place to hear what the band has made so far Well, I'll hear and Bella is going to hang out with Alice and me. Apparently, Alice met Jasper as she exited our store the day she threatened to hurt me if I did anything to Bella.

The boys have made a mess of Jake's living room. Not that it was clean to begin with since he lives by himself and he's a damn pig, but the place is now full of cords, guitars, amps, and more cords.

Bella sits next to me, leaning into my side. We've somehow managed to get over the whole Mike ordeal and I hope the guy never dares to show up again. I didn't ask about him after our discussion during dinner, and I don't think she minds. As I listen to the band practice, I stare at Bella and feel pity for Mike. She isn't wearing any makeup and her messy brown hair frames her pale face just right. I can't blame him for not being able to let her go.

She's beautiful.

She has her hand over her chest, trying to feel the vibrations of the music, making my lips curl up in a deep smile. I'm sure if Bella would have been born with hearing, she and I would share love for music.

The band plays one song and Jake does a little singing. He can't seem to finish writing the lyrics, but they have a song now. He mumbles through the parts he has no lyrics for.

Alice claps as if it's the best thing ever when they're done and gives Jasper a hug. I know that he likes her, because he looks like an idiot smiling that way, and I wonder if that's the way I look around Bella.

Probably.

"Edward, dude, you study this shit. How did we do?" Jake asks.

"It's good for a first song, but where is your drummer?"

"You remember Garret?"

"Oh, yeah, the idiot that broke his nose at the bar."

"Yeah, him, he's gonna be the drummer."

"Where is he now?"

Jake laughs. "He broke his nose again in another bar fight."

"He sounds promising," I mutter.

"He sounds like a typical, rock star. He's perfect," Jasper jokes.

I chuckle. "Jasper, you should try a different chord during the opening." I get up and show my friend what I'm talking about and then suddenly I'm helping Jake finish the lyrics to the song. They play it a few times and I have to keep stopping them, because they're getting the melody wrong and playing and singing out of sync. Three more tries and they sound perfect.

I sit back down with Bella who is currently smiling suspiciously at me.

"What?" I ask her.

"You really like teaching," she says.

"Music? Yeah, I guess so. It is what I love, and I know a lot about it."

"Maybe, you should be a music teacher."

I laugh and shake my head at the silly idea. "Me, a teacher? I don't think so."

She shrugs and takes the beer out of my hand and drinks from it. She rests her head against my shoulder and finishes the beer. Softly, she runs her fingers over my arm and down to my hands that rest in my lap. Lightly she rubs her thumb over my skin and before I know it, I'm resting my head against hers and ignoring the band while I squeeze her tiny hand.

*TL*

Jake and Jasper have invited over a few friends to party.

Alice gives me a wink before she runs off with Jasper. I don't want to know what they're up to and I'm not bothering to find out. But it seems that I am finally in her good graces. Not once has that small pixie glared at me tonight.

Jake decided to play typical party music which means I hate it. Everyone is dancing in the living room and laughing while they get drunk.

Bella and I are sitting at the top of the stairs, watching, after we danced to a few songs. For the first time since I met Bella, I catch her with no expression on her face. She isn't staring at the lively crowd of people in front of us, instead, her eyes are staring at an imaginary world ahead of her. I gently tap her shoulder to get her attention.

"You okay?" I ask.

She gives me an honest smile and nods. She points at herself and moves a few fingers in a circular motion to the side of her head. I'm assuming she's calling herself crazy.

I shake my head and pull out our journal.

"_Is it Mike?"_

She giggles. _"No! I really liked him, but it was never serious. It's what he reminded me of that has me this way."_

"_What is it?"_

"_Home. My home in Forks. It's a little town, and also, my dad."_

"_How long has it been since you've seen him or been there."_

"_I haven't been in Forks in two years and I haven't seen him in months. I can't really call him as you might have already guessed and he's terrible with computers. I guess I'm missing him and that awful town."_

"_You should email or send him a good, old fashion letter. I have proof that you're good at writing."_

She smiles. _"I know I can do those things. But I selfishly don't want him to find me. Not yet."_

"_Your dad doesn't know where you are?"_

"_He kind of does, but I've asked him to give me some time."_

"_Why? Is he like my dad?"_

"_No, not at all. He is overprotective, though. I do love him very much, but I just need to live a little before it's time." _

"_Before it's time for what?"_

"_Before it's time that I prove to him that I am not like my mom. That I'm not going to leave us alone like she did. I'm not going to let his heart break again," _she writes and turns back to the dancing crowd as she places a hand over her chest and starts to sway side to side with the music.

As we head home, Bella is back to her cheery and quirky self, but I wonder if she hurts in any way for her dad or… for her mom. I know she has a great heart so I don't doubt she does live in pain, and I admire her ability to not let it show.

She makes goofy faces at the little girl sitting next to us who giggles until she falls back into her mother's lap on the bus.

When the little girl and her mother leave, Bella turns to me with a grin. She digs into the pocket of my jacket and pulls out the journal and pen.

"_I know this is a weird question. It's just a random thought. Do you ever think about the type of parent you'll be?"_

"_It is quite strange, Ms. Swan, but no. I don't think I have. I'd like to think that I would be a supportive dad. Oh, and cool. I would be a cool dad."_

She smiles. _"Me too. I guess we want to be what we didn't have."_

"_I'm sure you're referring to your mother."_

"_Yes."_

"_Where did she go?"_

"_I don't know. She left my dad and me when I was five. She couldn't deal with taking care of me and didn't like the idea of having a kid with 'special' needs. She sends me holiday cards and sends me one on my birthday on the wrong day. How considerate of her."_

"_Do you read them?"_

"_I read every single word. She's lost her touch over the years. Her cards and letters have less words each time. I guess she doesn't have much to say anymore. I don't respond."_

I feel sadness for her in my chest and she immediately sees it.

"_I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bum us out. I don't know why I'm thinking of my mother. Why don't you invite me over and we can watch a movie or something?"_

I chuckle and pull her close to me.

~TL~

I don't remember what movie we're watching. I don't even know how we ended up on my couch with me on top of sweet Bella and our mouths glued together.

It's raining?

It's 2 AM?

When did that happen?

I have to work tomorrow … I think … holy … she feels good.

I let go of her soft and warm lips. She's out of breath and enjoying herself. I can tell by the way her eyes are still closed, by her blushing cheeks and by the way she hums as I attack her neck with my lips. She slides her small hands under my shirt and caresses my skin.

"You want me to take it off?" I ask, but then I cringe remembering she can't hear me. I sit up and the movement makes her open those brown eyes.

She grins and licks her lips, letting me know she is in a mischievous mood. She moves her hands over my chest as I throw my t-shirt somewhere out in the darkness of my apartment.

"You're beautiful," she says, grinning.

"Hush," I say, but her face lets me know she doesn't understand that. I don't bother to stop and explain and instead return my lips to hers, grinding my hips into her.

She gasps and digs her fingers into my skin.

She pulls away from my mouth and finds her way into my neck, licking at the skin there, up to my ear.

"Oh …" I seem to have forgotten how to speak and instead sound like a caveman.

Shit, I'm not a caveman though, and as I feel her hands unzipping my jeans, I wonder if I have condoms. I haven't had any girls over in ages and…fuck, she's now sucking on my Adam's apple.

"Hold on, baby," I mutter and somehow I'm glad she didn't hear me because I really don't want her to stop.

_What? You're an asshole, Cullen._

_I know!_

But I'm also fucking hard as a rock.

She hums into my mouth when she finds it and soon enough we're once again grinding into each other. She pushes me off and I wonder what has caused her to suddenly stop and I don't want to cry like a little …but then I realize she's only taking off her blouse and bra. She smirks as I stare at her boobs … tits … boobs… breasts? Ummm…

I am certain that there is no blood in my brain and I am a caveman.

I don't even ask as I cup her small mounds. They're not big in any way, but as I've mentioned before, everything is perfect when it comes to her.

She moans and returns her mouth to my neck.

_I haven't even asked her to be my girlfriend. I'm such a dick. _

_Where are we? _

_In 1950?_

_Fuck off inner voice!_

I slip my hands into her shorts and before I can get to the promise land, Led Zeppelin's _Kashmir_ starts to play.

What the hell?

It's my cellphone.

Of course Bella can't hear it and continues as if nothing is going on.

I can ignore it.

The ringing stops and I return my hand down her panties, but then the phone starts going off again.

Speaking of getting off, it seems neither of us will get that tonight.

I mutter a few, curse words and lift up. She glares at me.

I feel the same way!

"What?" she asks.

I run over to my phone and show it to her before I answer. Her face relaxes and she gives me a small smile.

I turn around to talk to the annoying person calling in the middle of the night…morning…I can't stare at Bella's tits unless I want to sound like an idiot.

"Hello?"

"Is this Edward Cullen?"

"Yes."

She explains.

She explains why she is calling and I wish she would have never called.

I hang up and look at Bella who now looks worried.

"You okay?" She asks.

"That was the hospital. My dad is there…he had a heart attack."

Her eyes widen and before I know it, we're on our way to the hospital. She holds me close during the ride and gives me comforting, soft kisses.

I'm glad she's with me. I told her she could go to her apartment and sleep, but she refused and insisted on coming with me. "It's gonna be okay," she whispers against my cheek and even the way she mispronounces her words makes me wanna hold her closer and believe.

When we get to the hospital, hand in hand, we run to the floor where my dad is being attended. The doctor explains that it was a minor attack and he'll be fine. He'll have to visit a cardiologist and eat and exercise better. After I explain it to Bella, we head over to see my old man.

"I don't know why they have me here. I'm a goddamn doctor. I know what the protocol is," Carlisle says. He looks strange and weak in his hospital gown and out of his shiny shoes. I'm not used to seeing him like this.

"The doctor said it was stress," I say.

He huffs and stares at Bella for a moment and then at me.

"You're still with her? I guess I was wrong about you and her."

I roll my eyes.

"Stress? Ha! Of course it is. I worry about you too damn much, Edward."

"I think you should just rest," I say sternly.

"If you would just listen to me and leave this silly, music dream behind, this wouldn't happen."

"No, this happens because you're a dick!" I say.

He gasps and his eyes widen.

A moment later he clears his throat. "I can't believe you just called me a dick, son."

"You know you are."

"I'm glad she can't hear you."

I smirk and make sure Bella isn't looking at me to read my lips. "She's my girlfriend, she already knows you're a dick. Remember this morning?"

He rolls his eyes. "Are you going to leave?"

"Are you kicking us out?"

"No, I'm just wondering, since I know you're probably tired and I can get the nurse to bring you some pillows."

My father… is showing some humanity.

"Bella needs to get home, but I'll come get you in the morning."

"In what car?"

"In my damn spaceship."

He side eyes me as Bella helps him get comfortable.

She's so lovely.

"You should learn something from your girlfriend and be nice to your old man."

I glance at Bella hoping she didn't read Carlisle's lips. Luckily she's too busy fixing his pillow.

"You haven't asked her yet?" He asks.

I sigh. "Let's go, Bella."

"What the hell are you waiting for? You know, I asked your mother to be my lady the same day I met her. Don't be a pussy."

I cringe. "Please don't use the word 'pussy.' It's disturbing. You're my dad."

I smile at Bella when she looks at me and nod towards the door.

She goes to grab her jacket from one of the chairs in the room.

"I like her," Dad says. "She makes you brave. You've never spoken to me like that before."

I roll my eyes. "In my dreams I have."

"Maybe she'll also make you see how you're wasting your time with music."

"Have a goodnight, Dad," I mutter and take Bella's hand as we walk out the door.

"Leaving already?" A nurse asks.

"Having a dad like him makes this the longest visit ever," I tell the nosey lady.

Bella leans into my side as we ride the elevator down, and without hesitation I take her hand in mine.

The waiting room is empty tonight as we quietly walk towards the exit.

"So, girlfriend?" Bella suddenly asks, making me stop.

"Um, I was just…"

She smirks at me as she stands up on her tiptoes and wraps her arms around my neck, placing a sweet kiss on my lips.

"You gonna ask?"

I smile and give her a kiss of my own. "We're standing in the middle of a germ, infested room."

She giggles and shrugs. "Romantic," she teases, but I can see the warmth in her eyes.

What am I waiting for?

"Bella?"

She raises an eyebrow, waiting.

"You wanna be my girlfriend?"

"What?" She asks.

"You want to be my girlfriend?"

"What?" she asks loudly.

"Do you want…wait…"

She laughs and I'm pretty sure we look like assholes laughing in the middle of a hospital waiting room. I think the sick looking man sitting in the corner is glaring at us.

I take out my journal and pen.

"_Do you want to be my girlfriend?! You see how I added so many explanation marks? I'm shouting at you. This is it. Answer!"_

She giggles again.

I sure do hope the sick man is too sick to tell us to shut up.

She writes and takes a while to return the journal to me. She laughs when I try to swipe it out of her hands and finally hands it over after a nurse tells us to hush it.

"_Yes! I'm shouting back. You like it?" _

I take her smiley face into my hands and press my lips against hers to show her how much I do like it. She so soft and warm and beautiful and…

"Bella?"

I look up to see who is calling her name.

A young looking guy in a white, lab coat is staring at us with his mouth hanging open.

Bella of course hasn't heard him and tries to kiss me again, but I stop her and point towards the doctor calling her name.

She slowly turns and sees him. I can feel as she tenses her body.

"Shit," she mutters.

"Bella, it's really you!" The guy says. He's clearly happy and even moved closer to see her.

Is he about to cry?

Pussy.

"Hello, Peter," she says awkwardly.

"Peter? You never called me by my name, my love. Where have you been? I haven't seen you in months. I miss you."

Before I lose my cool…yet again, Bella grabs onto my shirt.

"Let me explain," she says, pleading to me with her eyes.

Mike?

Peter?

What the hell is going on?

* * *

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